


When I'm fucked up (that's the real me)

by seasonschange



Series: Fucked Up [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: "happy" ending, (NOT major character death), Alpha Steve, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Beard Burn, Blood, Bondage, Breeding Kink, D/s undertones, Dark, Dark Steve, Death, Dirty Talk, Domestic Violence, Heat Sex, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Killer Steve, Knife Play, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mentions of Suicide, Multiple Orgasms, Murder Husbands, OOC Sharon, Omega Bucky - Freeform, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Romance, Self-Lubrication, Sharon Dies, Stalking, THOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, bleached bucky, fucked up bucky, fucked up steve, i've included characters i hate just so that i can kill them lmao, mentions of depression, mentions of past rape, mentions of pre-serum steve, oh yes bucky is all kinds of fucked up too just wait, rumlow dies, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 09:25:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5243141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasonschange/pseuds/seasonschange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's the Apex Predator, and he kills bonded pairs to establish his status as the ultimate alpha. One day things don't turn out the way they should, a kill goes south and Steve's left with no other choice but to kidnap the dead alpha's prospective mate who's gone unexpectedly in heat. READ ALL THE TAGS !</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CommanderRogers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderRogers/gifts).



>  
> 
> I blame my fucked up pal [@captainwinter](http://captainwinter.tumblr.com)/CommanderRogers for requesting this fic, which is by the way the most fucked up, porn-ish thing I've ever written. Honestly, ~~I'm not even into half of the things I wrote here~~. Friendship is so weird. Anyway, blood kink or not, I still love you, Reyna, till the end of this fucked up line  <3
> 
> Title from [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzTuBuRdAyA).

* * *

With a hand plastered over the smaller man’s mouth, Steve bodily hauls him outside the house, and into a narrow back-alley.

The man struggles and tries to fight him, but all Steve has to do is rub the inside of his wrist under the man’s nose again, and he goes limp in his arms. He can’t fight the overpowering smell of an alpha in rut no more than Steve can let go of the omega. This little omega whose smell he caught even through the thick stench of fear and blood and death.

The alpha's body shakes with the memory and if the omega wasn't in heat, crazed pheromones controlling Steve's protective instincts like the sweet enthralling song of a siren, Steve would have pushed the desk the smaller man was hiding underneath and instead of grabbing him and getting them both out of the crime scene as fast as possible, he'd have taken his time. He'd have toyed with this terrified creature, excited him to the point of delirium and then...

...and then sank his teeth deep into the tender skin at the base of the omega's neck, in that place where the smell is the strongest, breaching the skin and drinking his fill. Fear and arousal are the headiest combination and their taste is addicting. He'd have drunk until he was filled with the other's essence, until he'd reclaimed what was rightfully his - and only then would he have cut a smile in the omega's throat and held the quivering, gurgling man tight against his chest to provide comfort and care for his dying mate.

If he hadn't been in heat, Steve would have already killed him.

Steve loves the heady feeling of breaking into another alpha's territory,  _walking all over_ a house filled with someone else's scent and leaving his mark everywhere.  _Ruining it_. He loves to defy those who think they're bigger and stronger than him, who think they're a match for Steve's sharp teeth and sharper knife.

He always kills the alphas first, because there's no point in playing with them. He catches the omega first because they're easier to take care of, ties them where the show is going to take place, and then lures the alpha in there. Steve wants to destroy them in front of their mates; he goes at every alpha he makes his target, in perfect harmony with the beast lurking behind his cold blue eyes, with teeth and nails and every other weapon he can find and he doesn't stop until he's painted the walls with the unrecognizable remains of his victim.

Then comes the omega's turn. And this is where Steve finally gets to have some  _real_ fun.

Killing their alpha in front of them is a crucial point in Steve's ritual. His chosen ones are always mated pairs, and to claim a mated omega one needs to severe the previous bond. Steve doesn't believe in the concept of mating for life. If that was the case, how was he able to claim all these omegas for himself? If that was the case, how could he pretend to the title of _Apex Predator_ \- the alpha on the top of the food chain? Steve's heard of that term a long time ago, when he was still small and sickly and everyone's favorite punching bag. All the other kids had enjoyed tormenting little Steve who they saw as inferior; alphas told him he would never be one of them as they pushed his head down the toilet, and omegas stood back and enjoyed the show, calling him names and  _laughing_. They were _always_ laughing.

Now it's Steve's turn to laugh.

He's the ultimate predator coming for every single alpha who's got the misfortune of crossing his path and attracting his attention in any way, and he's coming with death in his wake. The book that first taught him about the existence of an _Apex Predator_ in every animal reign was the thing that saved his life, way back then. When Steve was weak and scrawny and on the brink of giving up and throwing himself off a bridge the next time his mom let him come home from school on his own, believing all the other kids' cruel words; believing with an unshakable clarity that those who were too weak should not have the right to live and breathe on this Earth.

The day he was about to take act, right after class his classmates had been relentlessly coming after him, deciding on pursuing him to his house. So in order to escape them, Steve had run for his life, and stumbled completely out of breath and tears running down his cheeks into the local library. He had crawled under a table far away into the depths of the library and found solace, and a strange sense of calm, into a book lying on the floor, as if waiting to be picked up by little Steve.

_Apex Predator - Index_

There had been pages and pages about every specific alpha predator in every ecosystem, for every species. Except humans. There had been very little on the existence of a top-level alpha emerging in the midst of the human race, an individual which  _no one else predates._ The one alpha which all the other insignificant alphas should  _defer_ to. The one which every omega would be  _dying_  to attract, and which every omega would  _rightfully belong to_.

It'd been like a revelation. Steve had always felt deep down that he was special. Now he knew who he was meant to be. Who he already  _was_ but just hadn't known it yet. Because all those things he'd read about, he'd wanted them. Wanted them  _badly_. The other kids had to have felt what Steve could become; had to have felt threatened, and Steve couldn't blame them anymore than they could blame him for what he would become. It was only biology. It was the laws of nature, and all abide to them.

From that day on, Steve had a purpose in life. And the training had started.

* * *

Tonight is the first time things turned south for Steve. As he holds the smaller omega so tight against his chest he knows he'll be leaving bruises, the omega's head cradled in one bloodied hand and tucked securely under Steve's chin, Steve is thinking - frenetically.

The neighbors have heard the commotion. Steve's usually been very efficient at keeping it quiet. He always makes sure to gag the omega some way or another, and once the alpha's seen him it's already too late to call for help. After years of practice, first with imaginary targets and then with live ones, Steve's reflexes appear almost superhuman.

The first place he lungs for is the throat. He'll lure the alpha into the room where their omega is standing bound and gagged and completely helpless, then he'll leap out like a panther, all grace and precision and death and strike the alpha's tracheae, breaking skin and cartilage with the blunt edge of his hand, effectively silencing his victim in one single blow.

Then it's only a matter of seconds before the alpha's sprawled on the floor at Steve's feet, eyes empty and unseeing, their blood coloring the strands of Steve's blond hair, clinging to his long eyelashes, spilling from the corners of his mouth and dripping from his hands.

This time's different. He's been watching the couple from a distance for the past four days, turning into their silent shadow at the movie theater, at the grocery shop, at work, and even in their house, hiding in the backyard and observing with focused intent everything that happens on the other side of the transparent curtains.

He knows that they're not mated yet. He knows that the alpha is seeing another omega and that his  _current_ omega knows and is letting it happen. They're waiting to be sure they're really compatible before proceeding to the mating - like most couples do. Usually, Steve prefers the mated pairs. But something in the smell of that omega had compelled him to pick them in the busy crowd where they'd crossed paths.

Now Steve knew what it had been; what it is  _now_. The omega had been on the cusp of his heat cycle. Usually, omegas who feel their heat coming will stay at home and wait it out with their partners or for the unmatched ones - with the help of toys and fingers and sometimes, cold showers and lots of prayers. Steve's heard it's a very  _painful_ thing to experience a heat without a partner. 

Usually, Steve stays away from omegas in heat. He doesn't like the idea of being a slave to his instincts, of  _servicing_ someone else, someone  _lower_ than him. Steve hasn't even ever had any sexual contact with an omega. When he was younger, and he hadn't had the time to fill out yet, he'd been taken forcefully by another alpha, and Steve hadn't been able to do much about it than bite on his tongue until he tasted blood, and... wait it out.

He'd waited two long years with vengeance burning inside his chest like a white-hot star, then he'd set his step-father's house on fire. It didn't matter that his mother was still inside when the smoke reached the couple's bedroom and quickly asphyxiated the pair, leaving them no chance. It didn't matter that everyone thought little Steve had died in the "accidental fire of unknown origin", too, even though the body could never be found or identified.

It'd been Steve's first victory over the world. It'd been Steve's first  _reclaim_ of something that should have been  _his_ to give in the first place. Steve had smiled at the column of black smoke rising towards the sky. He'd watched, reflections of the flames dancing in his cold blue eyes. He'd grinned, all teeth showing, and then he had laughed and laughed and  _laughed_.

And he'd never let anyone else touch him. Or felt any desire to  _breed_ anyone, ever.

The Apex Predator wouldn't be a slave to his urges.

* * *

Tonight, they had been waiting for him. And it all went south because of Steve's rising popularity.

He's been dubbed by the media "The Matchwrecker" - in reference to his _modus operandi_  which entailed targeting mated (and mostly male-only) couples, taking the alpha out of the picture and claiming their partner. Steve's got a copy of all and every article written about his kills. They fill him with self-righteousness and vindication that what he does is  _important_ enough to appear in the media - but he's however less than thrilled with his name. _The Matchwrecker._ It's silly. It doesn't sound as impressive and dangerous and superior as _he_ feels. It doesn't reflect his  _true_ message at all.

Steve still hasn't found a way to make the media and the general public understand. But soon, they will understand, and they'll know. After enough killings, they'll  _have_ to.

But willing or not, he's made himself a name, and he should have known some people would start to get prepared just  _in case_. These two weren't even bonded yet, but they still had to have sensed his arrival. Steve's usually good at concealing his scent, always covering it up with dirt and chemicals of all sorts, and making sure to stand against the wind. 

The alpha was still waiting for him. Steve had broken into the house silent as a cat, entering the place by forcing one of the windows on the upper level. He'd trained his body in parkour for years, haunting the deserted parts of every town he settled temporarily in, so it was pretty easy for him to climb the facade and get inside.

Then he'd gone in search of the omega. He knew the couple went their separate ways after dinner, only to reunite in their bedroom in which Steve had been standing at that moment. The omega's scent had been strong - maybe too strong for someone who wasn't in the room anymore. And Steve should have distinguished and recognized the heat pheromones permeating the air, but... he couldn't exactly remember if he'd noticed it or not. Maybe he had, but captivated by the sensations of his body's response to such a powerful call, he'd decided to ignore the warning bells? Regardless, he'd followed the trail into another room down the hallway, and once he'd turned the handle and pushed the panel of the door - all hell had broken loose.

* * *

Now he's got an omega - an omega  _burning_  with need - clutching him tight and moaning softly against the fabric of Steve's blood-soaked jacket. And the neighbors have probably already called the police, who won't take long to arrive. And once they're here, the first thing they'll do is lock down the perimeter. And if Steve and the little omega haven't cleared out by then... Steve won't be able to help this little thing in need.

This omega who needs  _him_ , who is calling so sweetly to  _him_ , and who's currently experiencing pain beyond belief because Steve has failed to come up with a viable plan yet.

"A... A-alpha," the omega's sobs that are suddenly wrecking his whole frame are both terrifying and  _electri_ fying.

Steve stands up straighter at the omega's call, and takes a decision partially influenced by his rut. And although he  _should_  take this omega right here and right now, because that's what he needs and that's what Steve wants, they don't have the time. Steve hates having to compromise, but in this case, his body is _compelling him_ to think of the other first. If they catch Steve, the omega will remain without a mate, and he'll suffer. He needs Steve to take them both to safety,  _now._ And only  _then_  will Steve be able to do something about the smaller man's hard little member poking him insistently where he's started to rub himself clumsily against the alpha's strong thigh.

"Come," Steve growls in the omega's ear, and drags them both towards the bottom of the alley, ignoring the omega's choked complaints.

* * *

Steve doesn't have a car because he's been living not far from his targets' house. He rents cars when he needs to leave a city, but never leaves any traces behind, and never uses anything that requires an ID once he's settled somewhere. The public transport is one of his favorite places for tracking potential new targets, or simply walking on the streets with his hood over his head and his nose up in the air.

There's an abandoned warehouse there on the outskirts of the city, and shielded by the night, Steve and the omega find their way to Steve's hideout that he's established there with a minimum of trouble.

The place used to be infested with homeless people, but Steve has... taken care of them. Now it's only him controlling the vast space. When he pushes his captive omega head-first through the door and then follows suit, closing the heavy metal panel behind himself, he grabs hold of the other man again, saving him _in extremis_ from falling flat on his face when he stumbles against an invisible obstacle, and pushes him further inside.

The place is still part of the grid, probably because it must be governmental property so it's still supplied in electricity by the city. There's a switch that'll turn feeble and flickering lights situated high against the walls of the warehouse, but Steve doesn't like using them much, so he doesn't turn it on. They'll also attract too much attention if he uses them too much. He keeps directing the smaller man ahead, knowing full well where he's going. In a corner of the warehouse, Steve's established his temporary camp, and that's where he'll find all the necessary tools to take care of the omega - ropes, scotch tape, some fabric to use as a gag and sedatives although his captive doesn't look like he'll need those. He's been very quiet and compliant the whole walk to his partner's murderer's house, and Steve's in equal parts grateful and worried about such an unexpected behavior.

His vision's almost as good in the dark as it is in the light of day, and the windows cut into the roof are letting in some of the moonlight, which is enough for Steve to lead them without a hitch to his camp, where he pushes the omega one last time and down onto an old plastic chair. 

The smaller man goes down without a fight, and merely utters a soft little whine when Steve lets go of him and crouches before crawling inside his tent and starts rummaging through his meager belongings, all acquired in this city without any trouble. He comes out with a length of rope, a bottle of water and one of his shirts. He doesn't know if the omega can see much of him in the dim moonlight bathing the inside of the warehouse, but Steve can clearly see the way the eyes of the other man widen at his approach, and how he squirms anxiously on the chair.

He smells wonderful. Steve can't help the way his whole body responds to being in close proximity with the omega in heat. He takes hold of the other's hands and brings them palm against palm behind the omega's back before binding them with the rope and tightening it with a knot around the back of the chair until he's sure the omega can't get free even if he struggles. He considers binding his feet, too, but then thinks about the practicality of bound legs when having sexual intercourse and decides against it. If the omega decides to run, he surely won't go far before Steve catches him.

The shirt he slowly sets aside, not yet sure about gagging the omega either. He finally picks the bottle of water and splashes his face with the cool liquid, getting rid of the blood and smell of the dead alpha. He's enjoyed wearing his victim's scent like a trophy, but he refuses to keep it when he needs the omega to smell him and only him. He grabs the shirt back after he's done and dries his face and as much as he can of his short hair.

And then... then comes the difficult part. The part where he's supposed to have sex with the omega. Steve's hard cock twitches inside his pants at the idea, but something's still holding him back. It's fear, and it's pride, and he really doesn't know if he'll be able to actually do this. He's in rut, he's been ever since he caught the sweet smell of an omega in heat, and unmated at that, and his member's been hard for so long now inside his pants that he's starting to ache a little. He'll need some kind of release, soon, and he knows there's no way he'll get it if he doesn't pop a knot. That'll require Steve either touching himself and bringing himself to a lonely and _painful_ climax, or... taking the omega, and giving them both what they need.

Under Steve's scrutiny, the dark haired man moans softly and grinds his ass hard against the chair. Steve can see him rolling his hips, trying to get some friction against the bulge in his pants, and probably also over his leaking hole. Steve can smell the sweet fragrance of the omega's slick from where he's crouching, and he keeps losing his train of thought because of it.

"Alpha?" comes a quiet cry and Steve has to bite his upper lip to keep the frustrated answering groan from escaping him.

He can do this. This is only natural, and he'll be the one in charge from beginning to end. All Steve has to do is let go, and trust his instincts to take over. Even though he hates that feeling because it'd mean a certain loss of control over himself.

Inhaling deeply, Steve goes down on his knees, and crawls slowly closer to the omega. He's touched and pleasured and even brought other omegas to orgasm countless times. He's done this before biting and claiming them, before taking their lives and watching them exhale their last breath. He's done it because he enjoys it, and because it's a statement of who the omegas belong to. He kills them because only death is able to quench the dark greed eating at Steve when he's standing in front of an omega he's claimed.

But he can't kill this one, not for the duration of his heat and Steve's own rut. That'll be a week, give or take, and it's a week Steve'll have to spend in _very close quarters_ with another person, and that idea only is already enough to make him feel out of balance. Steve hasn't spent such a great amount of time with another human being in a very long time; enough to make him nervous. The omega will live for as long as it takes for Steve's rut to burn out, and then he'll sink his teeth into that delicate neck and bring the omega a well-earned death. The "play" part of Steve's ritual will only last a little longer, this time, that's all. That's... all.

When he's close enough, Steve puts both palms on the omega's quivering thighs, and watches the other's eyes flutter closed.

"Please _... alpha,"_ he pleads so meekly, submissive behavior calling to every single one of Steve's answering dominant instincts.

Steve leans over and sniffs above the omega, who whines in response. Steve slides his knees closer, opening his legs to give his cock some space inside the confines of his pants, and pushes his nose right against the omega's crotch. He sniffs the pheromones,  _loudly_ , brushing his nose over the bulge a couple of times before nipping the fabric with his teeth. Above him, the omega's sent into a frenzy by the alpha's teasing, mewling and pleading and tugging against his restrains, legs shaking but held firmly down by Steve's hands.

"Shhhhhh," he whispers against the omega's member he can feel pulsating underneath the fabric.

The omega mumbles something incoherent before going completely limp under Steve's hands. Steve reaches back and pulls out the knife from its sheath strapped around his right ankle. He brings the knife to the omega's lap, and grins wide when he catches the shock sparking inside the other man's big watery eyes.

"Please, don't kill me," the omega pleads, and Steve hums in reply.

The omega starts crying, softly, and Steve does nothing to reassure him. He likes the power he holds over the omega, and isn't about to give any reassurance away about the way he's decided to handle this situation. He'd rather let the omega believe he could die at any moment. It'll only heighten any moment they get to spend together, Steve thinks as a dark smile tugs at his lips.

Forcing the omega's legs open a little bit more, Steve applies the sharp point of the knife against the edge of the omega's pants. He can hear the man above him hold his breath, and he can smell his tears sliding down sweat-dampened skin. Steve starts cutting through the seams with a calculated precision, and it doesn't take long for his sharp knife to cut a large opening in the omega's pants, and then the soft cotton briefs underneath.

Turning the knife in his hand so that the pointy side is now facing down, Steve grabs the two sides of the opening and tugs  _hard_. The omega doesn't make a sound as Steve tears through his clothes like an animal would do, but he's started breathing again, short panting breaths filling the air.

Steve peels the omega out of the torn garments in silence, ordering him to move his legs this and that way with a simple slap applied directly on nude skin, and the omega seems to understand the meaning every time. And Steve's starting to understand why he's been so compliant. The omega's head is lolling against his left shoulder, and he's drenched in sweat. Although his gaze is always trained on the man between his legs with the knife in one hand, his eyes are glassy with lust and he looks on the verge of loosing consciousness altogether. He's been experiencing the first stages of his heat for a little over two hours now - those are the strongest ones - and he still hasn't been offered any relief. He's in a haze of lust mixed with painful arousal and a constant high fever; right now he'd be ready to do anything if it'd get him Steve's cock buried deep inside him.

When he uncovers the omega's leaking cock and takes his first sniff, Steve can feel himself loosing another small part of his sanity to his rut. The air's permeated with the smell of pure arousal and need, but mostly with the _sweet_ smell of an omega in heat, all ripe for the taking. Steve used to think he loved taking unwilling omegas apart with his hands and mouth, but for some inexplicable reason, this feels a hundred times better. Maybe it's the knowledge that, for the very first time, Steve's _wanted_ there. He's  _craved_ like a glass of fresh water in the middle of a desert. It's a brand new feeling, and if Steve's not careful he could come to crave it, _too_.

When he ducks his head and takes the omega's small cock inside his mouth and sucks the bittersweet juices leaking profusely from the slit, he's distantly aware of the man moaning brokenly and in  _relief_ above him. He's scratching the omega's thighs with his three weeks old scruff every time he bobs his head, and that gets him even more delirious little sounds of delighted pleasure. This is familiar, in the way he's done this to so many before, but it's also not because his victims are usually bound  _and_ gagged, because he can't let them any chance to call for help, and alert the neighborhood of Steve's presence.

But in this completely isolated place where nobody can hear, and nobody can witness Steve's darkness, he's decided to see what kinds of sounds he can get this omega to make, and the result is more than Steve's expected. It's empowering, it's terrifying, it's a whole new dimension on top of the usual sensations, and Steve catches himself thrusting once against the chair, too excited to control his impulses. He needs to mate this omega, he needs to spear him on his cock and pop his knot deep inside his hot little ass.

He slowly licks up the omega's hard member, gives it one farewell lick under the head and lifts his head from his lap.

" _Oh..._ alpha, fuck me, please?"

The tears are still spilling freely from the omega's eyes, and there's saliva clinging to his lips when he begs Steve.

Steve is past any rational thinking at this point, the taste of the smaller man on his tongue and his delicious smell filling his nostrils and clouding his brain. The alpha stands up on slightly shaky legs, and shrugs his pants off without letting go of his knife. He cuts through the other man's sweater and throws the piece of ruined fabric on the ground. Then he does the same to his undershirt, and takes a moment to admire the way the omega looks all naked and bound under the moonlight, abandoned by civilization in this remote corner of the world that Steve's claimed as his own territory.

He's making those delicious sounds again, between panting and sobbing and Steve wants to reward him for being so breathtaking, so he purrs something that sounds like "good boy," and gets rewarded with another,  _louder_ sob.

Steve takes off his soiled jacket, then his blood-stained shirt too, not as indifferent as he'd like to the way the omega's interested eyes roam all over his impressive build, every bit the Apex Predator he prides himself of being. After puberty finally hit him, it almost knocked little Steve off his feet with how powerful the changes happened in him. By that time Steve had adopted another identity and already started roaming the country, finding odd jobs where he could and appealing to the hospitality of small town folks who never suspected who they had let under their roof.

Steve knows the way he looks - he's built himself a body worthy of belonging to the top-alpha, and it's no surprise that the omega is having trouble not drooling all over the place. Steve lets him look his fill, faintly amused at the way those big eyes that he can't really decide if they're blue or gray in the dim light flutter open and shut like he can't really decide if he wants to keep looking or not. Then Steve flips the knife and comes at the omega once again.

"No," the little thing chokes but this time doesn't even try to struggle, just sitting with his legs wide open, cock still hard and leaking although he sounds like he's scared to death. "I'll be good for you, I swear! I'll-I'll be so good!"

"You'll be," Steve agrees with a smirk.

Then he reaches with the knife and watches as the omega closes his eyes and keeps them tightly shut, getting ready for the bite of the steel. Steve's smile grows wider when he dips his hand behind the man and cuts the knot holding the man's bound hands tied to the back of the chair. The omega must feel the give because he opens his eyes and looks up at the alpha looming over him with a look of pure confusion.

"Up."

The omega takes a moment before the curt order can reach his lust and terror-fogged brain, and then he's scrambling to obey, eyes always trained on Steve's knife. Once he's standing up on unstable legs, Steve grabs him by the neck and turns them around so he can sit down on the chair, and then apply pressure on the smaller man's neck until he gets the message and carefully sits down in the alpha's lap. He seems hesitant about his bound hands, then eventually chooses to leave them on top of his head.

Underneath Steve's naked ass, the bottom of the chair is wet with the omega's slick. Steve hums contentedly and gets comfortable on the seat.

He brings his knife to the omega's exposed throat at the same moment that he feels more of that hot slick pouring from the omega straddling him with his legs splayed wide open, and coating the alpha's thighs in the omega's sweet smelling nectar. Steve shouldn't like the way he's starting to smell like the little omega, as if he's the  _one_ being claimed in this, but he can't exactly think straight and prefers enjoying the knowledge that he's got such a willing partner for once.

" _F-f-f-fuck_ ," the other man stutters, and he holds Steve's gaze with teary eyes and a quivering mouth while the alpha drags the blunt edge of his knife around his throat, mimicking a throat slitting.

On a sudden whim, Steve wants to taste those quivering, glistening lips, so he traces a line from the omega's Adam's apple to his cheek, and commands: "Kiss me."

The omega goes a little cross-eyed when he tries to follow the knife's path.

He mumbles, "t-t-there's no need to-" but he's brutally cut off by Steve who grabs him by the neck again and pushes him down with enough force that he probably hurts the omega. The other does cry out in pain and shock, but the sound is again cut off when his open mouth crashes against the hard line of Steve's mouth.

The moment their lips meet, the omega's lapping at Steve's pinched mouth like he's found a lollipop, and it takes Steve quite a few licks before he tries opening his mouth and meeting that little tongue with his own. It's hot and wet and it doesn't take long for Steve to invade the omega's mouth, stroking their tongues together and rubbing against the roof of the omega's mouth, which elicits all kinds of mewls and grunts from both of them.

Steve doesn't realize he's shut his eyes until he feels a pressure on his shoulders and neck, and has to open them to see what that could be.

He freezes momentarily when he notes that the omega has lowered his bound hands to rest behind Steve's neck, bringing the circle of his arms around Steve's shoulders. It's like they've been brought closer together by this simple gesture that _shouldn't_ change so many parameters but  _does_ anyway. It suddenly feels more intimate, inside the omega's embrace. Instead of being afraid by this unexpected level of intimacy, Steve suddenly wants to get even closer.

"What's your name?" He asks in a hushed tone, applying a suddenly hesitant hand against the curve of the omega's ass and pulling him closer.

Their hard cocks brush against each other when Steve pulls them practically flush together, and the man's bound hands are digging into Steve's neck and clutching him even tighter. Steve doesn't stop him when he rolls his hips experimentally against Steve's thighs and hard cock, and moans deep in his throat.

"Bucky," the omega moans in turn, and his flushed skin colors a little more.

"Bucky", Steve repeats, and he kind of likes the sound of that.

Bucky appears confused again as he stops moving in order to carefully study the alpha, and Steve can't blame him - he's not doing any better. He wants to grab this beautiful omega and _pound_ into him within an inch of his life. He wants to bring his knife to that beautiful throat again and cut  _deep_  into the soft skin, and paint them both in Bucky's blood from head to toe. He wants Bucky to belong only to him and no one else, and he wants it to be known by all and always. He wants to claim the omega in every ways possible and have Bucky  _want it too_.

He...

...he'd better start with one at a time, or else he'll never get to fuck Bucky.

With no warning whatsoever, Steve throws the knife on the ground and grabs two handfuls of Bucky's ass cheeks and  _lifts_   _him_ like he weighs nothing, arms bunching and showing all that strength Steve's truly capable of.

"Oh, wow!" Bucky yelps as he clings to Steve as best as he can, and then Steve drops him onto his cock, impaling the omega completely in one slick slide.

Bucky's cries and his own growly moan fill his ears. Steve knows he's large - larger than an omega and even larger than most _alphas_ , included. But Bucky's beautiful and his greedy hole opens up and swallows him down with so little resistance, it shows for how long the omega's been past ready to take a cock inside him.

"Alpha, you feel so good," Bucky babbles, his bound fingers finding a way to run through the short hair at the back of Steve's head.

Steve's enamored with the fact that Bucky's been calling him by his status since the beginning, recognizing him by smell only and _accepting_ him completely as his alpha. When he starts moving inside of him, Steve doesn't hold anything back, anxious to give his all to this wonderful mate he's found himself. He's never done this before, but he's had it "done" to him, so he knows the  _general idea_ of how the act of fucking should happen. So it's not hard to apply it now, and with the pheromones from his rut guiding him through the claiming of his omega.

His omega. 

_Yes!_

"Alpha, alpha, please, alpha, more!"

Bucky's endless chanting is filled with need and awe in equal measures, and he meets every one of Steve's powerful thrusts up his slick channel with his own little thrusts. It feels like a challenge, like he's not getting enough from Steve and needs to put his own effort into the equation, and it just won't do.

With a resounding growl that makes his whole chest rumble, Steve lets go of Bucky's ass and grabs the edges of the chair. With that new, more solid leverage, he surges up with his pelvis and delivers a series of powerful thrusts.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah!" 

Bucky can't even call for him properly anymore, can't even form the word "alpha" before he's gasping for air as he bounces forcefully up and down Steve's cock.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah, _alpha!"_ Bucky suddenly cries out and clenches around Steve's cock with more strength than Steve's expected him to have.

The omega comes warm and wet against Steve's stomach, and the alpha doesn't hesitate for a second before burying his nose in the hollow on the left side of the smaller man's neck and biting so hard he feels his own jaw ache when he clenches _hard_. 

"Ghhh- _ugh, fuck!"_   The omega, incredibly, twitches all around Steve as he erupts once again and paints Steve's abs with more of his seed.

Steve keeps his teeth embedded deep into the smaller man's neck, only letting go when he feels little droplets of blood flowing down his tongue. With a possessive growl, Steve grabs the omega's head and keeps him in place as he sucks and laps at the punctures his teeth have left on the otherwise unblemished skin.

Steve hadn't planned on bonding with the omega so quickly, saving that for their last time before he's got to take his life, but he hadn't been able to control his urges - and maybe he knew he would have no chances of resisting an unmated omega in heat, taking him so good and deep and always crying for more.

Bucky's heat is only starting, though, and Steve knows their coupling is far from done. He's still hard inside of his spent omega, and he can feel that he's about to pop his first knot. There's a dull ache under and around the tip of his cock, and his balls are so drawn up tight against his ass that he  _just knows_ that this is it. He's ready to shoot his load while in rut for the first time.

"Breed me, alpha," Bucky quietly encourages him, eyelids drooping as he licks one corner of his lips and looks every bit the satisfied and well-fucked omega that Steve's made him.

Steve opens his mouth, hoping for something - _maybe_ a kiss - and Bucky dives in with a whine and lets Steve take possession of his mouth for the second time, no hesitation or fear this time whatsoever.

Kissing is starting to really grow on Steve, especially if he's doing it with his omega, and a part of his brain wonders _why he's never done this before?_ And forgetting for a moment about the bound and gagged faces of the many dead he's sewn behind him. All he can think about is Bucky, who's very much alive and warm and present inside Steve's arms, with his hot and slick body lovingly enveloping Steve's cock and bringing him steadily to his own climax.

"Alpha, please!"

Steve finally comes and he can't help his smile as he moans and bucks into his omega, filling him up with his seed and popping his first knot ever inside that snug heat.

"Yes, knot me! Breed me! Alpha, _yes!"_

Bucky flutters around him, around the sudden extra girth of him deep inside the omega, and he's spilling for the third time without a sound. Steve can feel all the muscles go slack as Bucky crumples against him afterwards, his small cock crushed against Steve's abs where it's still twitching and drooling a lasting trickle of come.

Steve's arms have somehow found their way back around his omega's body during their fucking, and now he's holding tight onto the smaller body, and finds that he's very reluctant to let go.

Not before he makes sure...

"Who do you belong to?"

Bucky moans, then simply exhales loud and hot against Steve's neck.

 _"You,_ alpha."

* * *

When Steve opens the door, a big, scruffy alpha's waiting for him with a baseball bat and doesn't even wait for him to enter the room before he's lunging at him with his improvised weapon. Steve's only got a fraction of a second to decide if he's ducking or meeting the impact head on, and he settles on the former.

He ducks away and runs down the hallway, the sound of his steps soon followed by those, heavier, of the other alpha.

The alpha's older, thus slower than Steve, and when Steve throws himself into another room he's got time to close the door behind him and turn the key into the lock before the alpha's throwing himself against it.

_"Open this goddamn door, you son of a bitch!"_

Steve frowns, something strange grabbing his attention. There is a strange smell in this room, and he recognizes it as the omega's scent. He thought it was leading into that other room, but it'd apparently been a trap. Here it doesn't smell that strongly, as it _should_ be, but Steve still thinks he can hear... maybe... a heartbeat?

The alpha shouts and bangs against the door, and just keeps shouting and Steve turns his back on the annoying man on the other side and sniffs the air carefully.

He was wrong: the smell gets stronger the farther he gets from the door. Steve takes a bunch of steps into the room and it's enough for him to discover by smell and hearing only the omega hiding underneath the desk pushed against the wall.

_"Open the door! I'm gonna break your fucking face if you don't open this, now!"_

They must have noticed Steve trailing them, at one moment or another. Steve must have made a mistake, somewhere along the road, and his preys had grown suspicious enough that they'd been expecting his arrival. Steve doesn't know if they've called the police yet, but by the look of it, and the lack of threats about the cops, Steve surmises this alpha's... what, decided to catch The Matchwrecker by himself? And then what, kill him?

_Oh foolish, foolish little man._

Decision this impudent fool and his partner won't live long to regret, however.

With a last, curious look at the desk, Steve turns back on his heels and goes to stand on one side of the door. He flattens himself as much as he can against the wall, then reaches for the key.

The moment he unlocks the door, the enraged alpha irrupts inside the room, stumbling on the carpet before righting himself by grabbing the desk with one hand. He whirls around with his bat in hand, ready to swing-

-only to shudder, shock making beady eyes go round. The alpha staggers, and looks down at Steve's hand that's nestled right against the middle of his chest.

Slowly, in order to let the man see, Steve takes out his long knife, the blade coated in dark ruby. Once it's all out, Steve grabs the man's wrist, the one still holding the bat, and strikes with his right hand, slashing the man's throat open from one ear to the other.

Red spurts out of the deep gash and hits Steve in the face, rains over his clothes and paints psychedelic lines on the white walls. Steve closes his eyes and waits it out; listens to the heavy body drop, baseball bat falling out of the dead man's grasp with a dull sound before rolling away, leaving large imprints in the pool of blood.

In the resounding silence that follows, Steve doesn't even have to strain his ears to hear it - a rustling of clothes, followed by a shaky intake of breath.

A wicked, blood-red smile appears on Steve's face.

"Come out, come out..."

* * *

"What's your name, by the way?" Bucky asks, watching the alpha's every move around the improvised camp from the inside of the tent, where he's lounging wrapped in a couple of woolen blankets. "I presume it's not "The Matchwrecker"?"

Steve throws his omega an unimpressed look, and goes back to collecting his knife and sliding it back inside its sheath still wrapped around his ankle. Morning has broken outside, and it's gotten a little less dark inside the warehouse. He's only put back his pants on, knowing that soon as he wakes up from his nap, Bucky'll be rearing to go all over again, so it's better if Steve has less clothes to take off. But Bucky's awake now, and he seems content with lying there looking adorable and so very fragile under the pile of covers. And now he's asking questions that are making Steve feel awkward, and uncomfortable. This is his first conversation in... some time. He's a bit rusted when it comes to platitudes.

"So?" Bucky prompts him again.

And Steve erupts like a goddamn geyser, without a warning sign, unable to put a lid on all these conflicting emotions regarding his mate.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER!" He bellows, and watches Bucky curl up on himself at the outburst, eyes turning opaque with fear. 

Steve forces himself to breathe. He still hasn't decided if he prefers Bucky when he's getting all comfortable and cocky in his presence, or if he likes this fearful omega better.

"The only thing," Steve continues, this time in a more controlled tone, "the only thing that matters is that I'm your alpha. I like it when you call me... that," he adds, not really sure why.

Bucky emerges a little from under the covers and gives the half naked alpha a thoughtful look.

"But, if you don't give me your name, how would you know it's  _you_ I'm calling in the middle of sex? I mean, it could be any alpha. It could be- _oh!"_

Steve jumps on the smart-mouthed omega before he can finish and grabs him by the throat, dragging him like this out of the tent and away from the comfort of his makeshift bed. He holds him up in front of him, toes barely touching the ground and face turning red with the lack of oxygen. Bucky's eyes are jumping from Steve's own to his mouth and back to his eyes again. There's panic etched in the overwhelming white of his wide open eyes, and Steve tightens his hold  _just because he can_  and watches Bucky struggle for _just_ a little longer.

"I'm... sorry," the dark-haired man gurgles. "Alpha!"

That last admission is probably what saves him. Steve releases most of the pressure around his omega's throat, and listens to him cough and gasp.

Unfazed by Bucky's state - he's brought it all on himself, this would teach him a lesson - Steve pushes the buck-naked omega on the hard ground and throws the omega's legs over his shoulders, unbuttoning his own pants in a couple of deft movements, holding his straining cock and directing it into Bucky's slick hole.

"N-no," Bucky complains, and strains his neck to drop small kisses on Steve's firm pectorals, quickly zeroing in on his hard nipples. "Please, I'm sore."

Steve grabs the dark curls and tugs Bucky's head back. He smiles when their eyes meet, Bucky's red-rimmed and afraid. In the light of day, Bucky's eyes appear dark blue and glinting like the surface of sunlit water.

"I'm not."

Steve enters Bucky slower this time around, gradually, a certain reluctance to inflict any undeserved pain on his omega. He wants to cherish and protect the other man, but he also needs him to show him some respect, and remember his place. The admission that he could be thinking of  _another one_ while receiving pleasure from Steve is more than just insulting.

It stings. It smarts in that place inside his chest where Steve is starting to feel _things_ for Bucky, and the only way Steve knows how to react towards people who cause him pain is to cause them even  _more_ pain in return. Steve hopes Bucky's learned his lesson this time, because he'll surely be in a lot of pain if Bucky ever mocked him like this again, and force Steve to do something very categorical. Like breaking the cocky omega's neck. 

Steve's chest would fill with  _so much pain_  if things came to this before he's had the time to get his fill of Bucky.

"Alpha," Bucky whines looking all contrite underneath him, hands reaching to tug Steve closer.

Steve drops Bucky's legs and goes willingly down to lay fully atop his omega. Bucky sighs happily and wraps his arms around Steve's shoulders and his long legs around his middle, holding onto Steve for dear life.

"I wasn't serious about the other alphas," Bucky tells him, and Steve has to close his eyes because he doesn't want to hear any more about "other alphas"; not when he can see his mark coloring the side of his bond mate's neck. "Alpha, you're... you're the only one for me, I swear!" Bucky chokes out, sounding desperate now.

"Shhhh."

_"Alpha..."_

"Tell me when you're about to come, baby," Steve orders, the endearment escaping him without his notice.

It doesn't go unnoticed by Bucky, who trembles under him and nods in understanding. 

Steve braces himself on the cold floor and plows into his omega's body with a kind of abandon he's never experienced before. Everything's brighter and tastes sharper when he's inside Bucky, and soon enough he's ready to coat the insides of his sweet omega with his hot seed.

Bucky's delicious smell of omega in heat has started filling the air gradually around them, and Steve knows he's nearing his climax, and certainly another round of delirious, heat-induced arousal.

"A-alpha," Bucky warns as Steve keeps thrusting inside him, stroking him inside and out with his body, giving all of himself so he can watch his mate reach his peak.

"Are you close, Bucky? You want my knot?"

_"Yes!"_

Steve kisses the glistening lips of his omega and wraps a hand around his neglected little cock. He starts stroking him in a rhythm opposite to his thrusts, drinking all of Bucky's affronted cries and pleading moans that never fail to make Steve so hot.

"It's Steve," he confesses, wondering if Bucky will even hear him.

Bucky closes his eyes, grips his alpha impossibly tight inside of him and comes with a single, strangled cry.

_"Steve!"_

And this simple word feels as real as an omega version of the bonding mark, branding the skin right over Steve's fucked up heart.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLEACHED BUCKY (happening later in this chap)  
>   
> 

* * *

Bucky wakes to his alpha holding his ass spread open, and to a hot tongue teasing his hole. 

Steve licks a wet stripe over the quivering opening with the flat of his tongue, tasting the omega's slick, and Bucky orgasms with a soft hiccup into the sheets of Steve's makeshift bed. Steve keeps rubbing his face between Bucky's crease, scruff scratching, _burning_ tender and overly-sensitive skin and adding an edge to Bucky's pleasure.

"You're awake," Steve doesn't ask but states in a rumbling voice once Bucky's stopped shaking, breathing the warm words right into Bucky's core.

Bucky nods into the bunched shirt he's been using as a pillow when he'd fallen asleep next to the alpha. They've fucked until dawn, Bucky going in and out of consciousness with the peaks and troughs of his heat. The last time Steve knotted him, Bucky remembers the very important secret he was trusted with. The alpha's name.

" _Mmm._ Steve..."

Bucky loves it. He loves saying it, loves the way Steve so reluctantly gave away that piece of information but _did it anyway_  because Bucky asked him. All for his good omega.

Bucky had had the scare of his life - that's starting to become a normal occurrence with Steve - when his taunting hadn't really led where he expected it to. He knows now, feeling the sore imprints of Steve's cruel, callused fingers around his throat and over his bond mark that Steve doesn't like it when Bucky makes fun of him. Or pretends there could be another male in Bucky's life.

If only he knew how deeply satisfied he's made Bucky when he'd bitten him and put down his mark on him, being the first ever to truly claim Bucky for himself. After he'd responded so strongly to Bucky's heat and taken such good care of him, bringing him not only relief but also countless little displays of affection that made Bucky's heart melt. How  _satiated_ Bucky feels right now, with his alpha between his legs lapping at his dripping hole.

If Steve knew how damn perfect he is for Bucky, how Bucky feels like he's been waiting for the alpha his entire life, he wouldn't doubt Bucky ever again.

"Steve," he mumbles once more into the bed, and he's rewarded with the prickles of Steve's scruff catching more insistently on the inside of Bucky's cheeks.

Steve's tongue is now licking into his hole, swallowing down some of Bucky's warm slick, pushing the rest around playfully inside the omega and spreading it over the edges of his spasming pucker.

Bucky's so very grateful Steve's indulging into this kind of eating out without anything sordid about it, like...  _actually eating_ Bucky. He knows Steve could do that. Even though his mind's in a haze due to his heat, he still remembers.

His alpha is a psychopath, and a killer.

Steve chooses that moment to drag his nails down Bucky's flanks, leaving burning scratches in his wake.

Yes, he could devour Bucky, and what's more disconcerting than that certitude is the fact that Bucky would let him. He'd beg him not to, he'd cry and call for mercy but he would eventually let Steve decide Bucky's fate, and he wouldn't oppose any resistance. It'd be all futile, anyway.

Although the way Steve's eating him _now_ has Bucky just as ready to cry and call for mercy. His hands are fisted in the sheets and he's thrusting his ass up and in Steve's face because he needs more, more, more, and he's moaning the words and he's just come and his body's already so damn sore - but he needs to  _again._

Bucky's cock hasn't gone down after his first release, and now that he's fully awake he can feel the burning need inside him, that bottomless pit of want and need waiting to be filled again. He's been filled before during heat cycles, by Brock, and many others before his ex-lover, but it has never felt this overwhelmingly good than when  _Steve's_  the one taking care of him. The one dragging a knife over Bucky's throat, keeping him grounded and in constant excitement/expectation.

With Steve, Bucky isn't simply filled - he's  _overflowing_.

"Alpha, Steve, alpha, Steve! Steve, please!"

Steve's penetrating him now with his tongue in an imitation of the act of fucking, taut and wet little muscle diving in and out of Bucky's entrance in rapid succession. 

"I wanna... I wanna... Alpha!" Bucky screams when Steve's beard scratches a place that's already been particularly abused.

Bucky's quickly dropping into that particular headspace, where all is sensation and liquid warmth, and all that matters is his alpha's scent and body wrapped around him, cherishing him, keeping him safe and buzzing with happiness. He's drooling over Steve's bunched shirt, in utter acceptance of both the pain and the pleasure. All he knows is Steve and the burning need in his gut.

"Alpha, please! Knot me! Breed me!"

Bucky doesn't know what he's saying anymore; he just feels his vocal cords vibrating, and his mouth open, and he knows there are words coming out but his brain doesn't register anything. It's just noises around him - loud slurping, ragged panting, the rustling of fabric and the needy moans muffled against it.

_"Ste-eve..."_

His eyes are brimming with tears, sight gone completely blurry. He pushes his ass against Steve once more, and this time he's finally rewarded by a comforting little slap on his cheek, and Steve's tongue leaves Bucky's asshole with one last and loud slurping sound.

"I'ma give you my knot, baby. Don't worry."

His voice is so low, it's not much more than a rumble. Bucky feels it in his bones, and he mewls quietly in acknowledgement.

Without his alpha's touch, Bucky's skin feels suddenly cool where there used to be warmth and pressure, and Bucky doesn't like it. He spreads his legs a little more, even if he's already at his limit, and it pulls and burns at the inside of his thighs. But he wants to look good, he wants his alpha back there and he wants him  _now_.

Steve runs his fingers through Bucky's messy hair next, grabs a handful of the dark strands and tugs back until Bucky's spine is curving and he's crying out in trepidation and pain. The alpha's clear blue eyes are burning with unspoken need when he locks gaze with Bucky who's watching him from the corner of his eyes. Then Steve bends Bucky's frame  _just_  a little more, when he's on the verge of breaking something in Bucky's back, probably feeling the bones and tendons reach their very limit, and kisses Bucky hard.

Bucky's mouth falls open on instinct and he keens under the onslaught of Steve's hungry mouth and tongue. He can taste himself on Steve's tongue - a barest hint of bland peaches, maybe. Then Steve abruptly releases him and pushes him back down, just the way he was with his ass up in the air.

Steve scarcely gives any type of warning whenever he's about to thrust into Bucky. And now, he just does it again; he pushes his hard length inside the omega and bottoms out with a long, satisfied groan.

"Good," he croons above him, and the praise rings like the sweetest song in Bucky's ears.

Bucky cries and drools helplessly and takes all of his alpha until he feels the tip bump against that sweet spot inside of him. Steve leans forward with the lines of his chest rubbing sensually against Bucky's back, braces himself on each side of Bucky's sprawled form and _finally_ starts fucking into the omega.

* * *

Steve's knot is so big...  _too_ big.

And Steve's still pushing further inside him, never stopping his maddening rhythm even after bringing Bucky to climax then drenching Bucky's insides with his come. He's an alpha at the peak of his rut, and Bucky's grateful their cycles are so in sync because without the heat pheromones  _drowning_ his body and making him feel this insatiable hunger right now, he knows he'd be hurting. Steve's knot is tugging at his walls, push and pull and push and pull and there's no way he can get it out, not now that it's so swollen and Bucky's clenching in an inbred reflex to keep his alpha inside him the longest possible.

But Bucky's afraid he might be trying, might be testing to see if really he can't dislodge it, and that _surely_ could hurt, not only Bucky but maybe even Steve, because a knot that's not surrounded with enough pressure and heat supposedly aches, too. So with his very last reserve of energy Bucky pushes his ass back and forces Steve's cock up inside him, as deep as it can go.

Steve purrs in his ear.

"I wonder... if it's possible to come like this."

The meaning of the words is hard to grasp for Bucky, especially after he's been impaled on his alpha's cock for so long.

"C-c-come?" He parrots, rendered stupid with pleasure.

"With my knot. Inside you. I wanna come again."

The omega has barely an occasion to make sense of that before his alpha's arms are closing around Bucky's chest and pulling him up, up and against his alpha's strong chest. The angle feels better this way, and Steve's knot slips  _just that tiny bit_ more upwards. Bucky thinks he might pass out from the overwhelming sensations, and it wouldn't be the first time so it's not as terrifying.

Steve fucks him nice and slow, knot probably sore where it rubs deep against Bucky. He stills carries on, intent on his idea, and Bucky finds it really hot when his alpha's showing this kind of fierce resolve. He braces himself on Steve's thick thighs and clenches around the cock inside him, anxious to help Steve reach another release.

His alpha's teeth close over the mark on Bucky's throat before he thrusts one last time into the omega, and Bucky feels him twitch and shake and spurt a very small amount, but it seems to last for _ages_. Steve shouts into Bucky's skin, whole body gone rigid as it works to ejaculate despite the knot obstructing the way.

Afterwards, it might be his imagination but Steve feels almost unbearably swollen inside Bucky. Soon as he's finished the big alpha slumps heavily against Bucky's back and remains there, his breathing loud and hard, like an exhausted lion preparing to take a nap on some rock. His mouth's still attached to the omega's neck, so maybe more like a lion holding onto his prey after a successful kill.

But he's still hard and too big inside Bucky, and his drawn out release coupled with Bucky's heat have succeeded into making Bucky's smaller cock stand up at attention all over again.

"S-steve?"

His alpha lazily sneaks a hand around Bucky and gropes around in his lap until he's found Bucky's cock. He cups the tip of him, but before Bucky can release a little sigh of pleasure and gratitude, Steve  _squeezes_ until it hurts. Bucky cries out when the sharp pain tears through him unexpectedly. Tears are streaming down his face and he tries to squirm away from the alpha, but then Steve releases him at once, and the orgasm takes Bucky completely by surprise, ropes of white shooting inside his alpha's big hand.

And as Bucky cries and calls his name, Steve laughs.

* * *

Bucky's heat lasts five entire days, which they spend fucking inside Steve's tent, or on the hard ground of the warehouse, and even once outside in the middle of the day, Steve's hand over Bucky's mouth to muffle his cries of ecstasy while he trusts between his little omega's trembling thighs and knots him, locking their bodies together deep and good.

On the fifth day, Bucky's need doesn't feel like he's burning from the inside any longer, and he finally has his first moment of clarity ever since his kidnapping. And to his shame, the first thing he thinks about isn't Brock, or the way Steve killed the one Bucky thought would become his mate very soon. What he thinks about, tucked against Steve's powerful chest inside their tent, is...

_I've never felt lighter._

Is it the knowledge that he could die at any moment, Steve's icy blues holding a thousand secrets but never hiding the fact that Bucky's only a means to an end? Mainly, the end of Steve's rut, that he's told Bucky that his heat caused? Is it that he's lived on the edge of the knife, _quite literally_ , until he's grown almost used to the constant threat hanging above his head? Until it doesn't even truly phase him? Living or dying, does it really matter when it's what his alpha desires?

Or is it the fact that Bucky's never felt so  _connected_  to another alpha, and never so fast?

It could also be because his plan worked perfectly, and he got rid of Brock at the same time that he found himself a strong and beautiful alpha, who would never hesitate to kill for him. Or hurt him to put him back in his place. An alpha so very deranged but still so very perfect to Bucky in every aspect Brock  _wasn't_.

His previous alpha was a shitty partner who couldn't care less about mating Bucky or not. He'd been seeing a female omega on the side and Bucky had found out if only because Brock never put any effort into hiding the smell of her sex when he came back home and into their bed, often way after midnight.

Bucky had threatened to leave, once, and Brock... had  _shrugged_.

That lack of even the most _basic_  interest for their relationship, and Bucky's well-being, had been the last straw. Bucky was through with this incompetent alpha, but he hadn't been able to leave him yet. In his experience, Bucky knew he wasn't good when he had nobody to take care of him. He always needed to have an alpha in his life, his only anchor, or he wouldn't be able to  _survive_ on his own. Bucky's only spent one single heat alone in his entire life, and he never wants to experience that level of pain and need and  _loneliness_  inside him like a black hole threatening to swallow him whole.

Steve's a deranged serial killer, there is no denying that fact. Bucky's never seen a picture of him or any name but he's read the articles, and he's seen the numerous news reports about his latest kills. He's the famous "Matchwrecker" who's been terrorizing every single household in America for the past four years, and the police still has little to no idea of who the killer might be, and where he lives.

And Bucky just spent his most mind-blowingly satisfying heat in the killer's arms, not only getting fucked passively but  _asking_  for it; encouraging the alpha to take him harder and  _begging_  for his knot. Even Steve's sadistic streak and extreme possessiveness made Bucky all kinds of hot.

He can't blame it all on his heat. Bucky's been through a couple of heats with Brock, and they were never that...  _wild_. And they sure as hell never felt this imperious need to bond that Bucky experienced with Steve that first night.

Bucky snuggles closer against the warm, sleepy form of his alpha.

Bucky still remembers when he first caught Steve's scent. It'd been at the marketplace downtown, he and Brock were aimlessly meandering when Bucky had spotted the hooded figure standing still in the middle of the lively crowd, and looking like the guy was staring straight at them.

Bucky's body temperature had spiked only mere moments later, and he had known that whoever was this hooded man, he had precipitated Bucky's heat when he wasn't expecting it before  _months_. That's when he and Brock were  _maybe_ going to finally do it, and bond with each other. But because of the stranger, Bucky's heat had been precipitated way ahead of schedule.

When they'd come back home, Brock had been very displeased when he'd caught a whiff of Bucky's excited pheromones, a clear indication that he'd enter his heat some time soon.  _"I'm not ready for that shit yet, dammit!"_ He'd very eloquently told Bucky before stomping away.

Bucky isn't sure anymore if he knew Steve would come for them, doesn't remember  _for sure_ if he'd guessed who the alpha was the first time he saw the creepy lurker on the marketplace. Maybe he let his heat bloom freely in a desperate call for help. Maybe Steve had heard him, understood Bucky and come to take him away from his suffocating life.

What Bucky remembers is Brock asking him if they should call the cops and report their suspicious stalker. And Bucky, still full of the memory of the man from the marketplace, and the way he'd  _lit_  Bucky inside with the barest hint of his smell, had asked Brock - would he rather be known as the man who called the police like a scaredy-cat, or as the alpha who caught The Matchwrecker and taught him a lesson?

Bucky had purposefully lured his ex-lover with the promise of glory and the omega's full support. But he'd lied.

He had known the day the killer came to their house that Brock was a dead man walking. In fact, even without Bucky's intervention, even if Brock _had a_ lerted the authorities, Steve'd have probably found a way to take Brock's life. Bucky'd been counting all along on his heat and the fact that he and the stranger had seemed to  _respond_ to each other on a baser level - had counted on those factors to  _survive_ that night.

To be the first to live long enough to fall in love with The Matchwrecker. _  
_

Next to him, Steve's breathing goes deeper, louder, and when Bucky looks up at him, he's just in time to see his alpha wake up, blinking clear blue eyes open.

But then Steve's eyes roll down to look at the omega plastered against his side, and his expression turns to granite.

* * *

 "You're alive."

Steve utters those three words like a surprise; an anomaly. Bucky shivers under the scrutiny of Steve's chilling stare, and unwraps his limbs from his alpha, aware that he's suddenly unwelcome.

Bucky's still in heat, but it's reached the last stages, and he won't experience any more imperious needs to copulate with the alpha. Steve too looks like he's coming down from the stress of his rut. And seeing how long they've both slept just now, they're without a doubt on the recovering curve. They've also eaten all of Steve's reserves of food (supposed to last him for quite a while, but they'd felt too ravenous to care) and used up all the water for drinking and the barest minimum required for washing, and soon enough they'll have to think about that and a whole lot of other trivial matters.

But Bucky can't bring himself to care about this distant future as he slowly slides out of the bed and stumbles outside of the tent, whining in his throat when Steve stands up and follows after him, his blank face even more troubling than his cruel, blood stained smile the day they met.

The only thing Bucky cares about right now as he starts walking backwards, away from Steve's menacing form slowly emerging from the tent, is his  _immediate_ future. With their mating urges and pheromones fading away and their bodies sliding back into their usual biologic rhythm, Bucky realizes with a pang that he's of no direct use to Steve any longer. Yes, they've bonded, but Bucky's heard all the stories, and he knows how Steve's killed all his previous victims. Throat slit, and a fresh bonding mark over their previous one. Steve's bonded with all the omegas he's killed, so what could make Bucky any more special than them? _  
_

Bucky brings trembling fingers to the mark on his neck, touching the scabs that've appeared over the places where Steve's sharp teeth have drawn blood.

To the omega, this mark, so deep that it will surely leave an everlasting scar - is  _everything_. And it hurts like a knife to the heart to know that Steve, his _alpha_ , doesn't attach any importance to it.

"Y-yes," Bucky finally stammers when Steve stands up, bringing his hands up in a peaceful gesture as he drags his bare feet on the ground, moving away but always mindful of Steve's inclination towards unexpected outbursts. "I'm-I'm alive."

Bucky's skin is erupting in goosebumps from the cold, since Steve destroyed all his clothes and hasn't yet provided him with anything new. The only thing he's wearing right now are Steve's marks all over his body. And every inch of skin that he's sucked or bit or scratched is throbbing painfully now, heart pounding loud in his ears and pumping the blood at a frenzied rhythm through his veins. His heart-rate has sped up, adrenaline dilating his pupils and boosting his muscles, and Bucky knows that's his body preparing itself to just _run_. 

Except Bucky has no desire to leave Steve's side. And once he's put enough distance between himself and the menacing alpha, he stops.

"Alpha?" He tries, voice quaking as he watches Steve, who hasn't moved a fraction, and is now downright  _glaring_  at Bucky, brow furrowed over cold blue eyes.

Bucky whines again, unsure of what to do to make his alpha happy again. He puts his arms down and behind his back and even slouches and exposes the left side of his neck like a peace offering, trying to appear as submissive and non-threatening as possible. Steve doesn't think like normal people do. Bucky remembers promises of death whispered into his skin, promises all made by Steve and Bucky's never doubted them to be true. What is happening right now could be as much a certain death sentence about to take place, as it could be another misunderstanding between the pair.

Bucky believed Steve would come to _like_ him, maybe, once they've spent enough time in each other's presence. He's been good and obedient, and he'd truly hoped there was a chance for them to be together...

Bucky doesn't want to die. He wants to live! He wants to live and remain at Steve's side forever!

He wants Steve to trust and adore him, just as much as Bucky's quickly come to trust and adore  _him_. He wants his alpha to know, without any room for doubt, that Bucky's on his side - and he'll always be, however dark and messed up that side may be.

So when Steve makes a come hither gesture in his direction, Bucky obeys.

He starts walking back towards his alpha, growing more and more certain that his alpha will make the right choice for the both of them... but his steps falter and he comes to a brutal halt at the glint of a blade.

Steve's unsheathed his knife and he's now holding it in his left hand, blade pointing in Bucky's direction.

Bucky whines loud this time, mouth open in a silent plea. His eyes sting at the sight of the dreadful object, and he's on the verge of bursting into tears but Steve merely growls, still waiting patiently for the omega.

There's no escaping this, Bucky knows the reality of his situation too well. And knife or not, he can't ignore Steve's command. It'll only get worse if he keeps stalling the inevitable, so Bucky holds back his tears, puts one clumsy foot in front of the other, and reluctantly returns to his mate.

Soon as he steps in front of his alpha, Steve grabs him, reflexes lightning-fast and still as efficient as ever, even after the strain they've put their bodies under. Bucky winces when Steve's fingernails bite into his bicep, digging pale half-moon indentations in his skin.

" _Don't_ run away," Steve growls, and then he's pulling the smaller man into a tight hug, surrounding Bucky with his warmth and familiar scent.

His alpha purrs contentedly after he shoves his face in Bucky's curls, and the omega... relaxes gradually.

It appears to the omega that the knife had been nothing but a test, to see if Bucky would still willingly obey Steve even with the possibility of death from his alpha's hand.

"You won't kill me," Bucky muses out loud, and Steve snickers, blowing warm air in Bucky's hair.

"I will break your arms if you disobey me," he very seriously recites in Bucky's ear, "and I'll break your  _neck_  if you try to run away. And if I hear you talk about another alpha ever again, I will cut you open from your little asshole to your filthy mouth."

Bucky chokes on his saliva, and he can't control the way he starts shaking with fear inside Steve's arms when he pictures the horrors Steve's capable of putting him through.

"I'll be good," he swears into Steve's chest, "I'll be your good little omega. I'll obey, I'll stay, only with you, Steve."

Then slowly, tentatively, Bucky puts his arms around Steve's body, too, and hugs him as tight as he can. No one's ever been ready to  _kill_ Bucky rather than let him leave them, and Bucky decides that this there is his proof of how much he means to his alpha. It gives him hope that maybe Steve will keep him for the long haul, and even come to  _love_ him.

Steve is back to purring, so for now, the worst has been avoided.

* * *

Steve begrudgingly admits some time later that he indeed needs to go back in town to restock their food supplies (and Bucky reminds him: new clothes for the omega), and also to find out what's been said in the press and on TV about Bucky's abduction. It's important that they see how much the police and the reporters know, if there's a picture of Bucky circulating that might make it harder for them to run away together, and the list just goes on and on.

Bucky trusts Steve to know what to do, because this life as an outlaw is something completely new to him. New and exciting. He wishes he could accompany Steve, and even asks permission from his alpha. But the blond smiles and tells him it's too dangerous. Bucky's disappeared only four and a half days ago. They're probably still actively searching for him. Whereas none of Steve's victims who's seen his face has lived long enough to tell, so he should be relatively safe going by himself.

Bucky lets Steve fuck him before he leaves, fast and hard and animal, a last reassurance that they're together in this, that Bucky's not going anywhere and that he'll be waiting inside their tent, all sated and sleepy and full of Steve's come. Steve doesn't pop a knot when he comes this time, and Bucky mourns the loss of the overwhelming pressure with a strangled whine. Steve laughs when Bucky admits that he'll miss Steve when he's in rut, and his heart sings happily when Steve pats his cheek and promises, "next time".

Which means he's planning on at least keeping Bucky for the next four months.

That's the best damn news Bucky's heard, probably in his whole life.

* * *

Bucky must have fallen asleep while he was waiting faithfully for his mate to come back to him. Because he wakes up with a start when Steve stomps inside the warehouse and slams the metal panel shut with a loud  _bang._

 _"You're back!"_  Bucky wants to chirp happily.  _"I've missed you! What are the news saying about us?"_  

But he never gets the occasion, because the moment he can make out Steve's face, he knows that something's very wrong. Steve looks about to burst out of his skin with rage. His eyes are bloodshot, his nostrils are flaring and he's almost foaming at the mouth when he stops, red-faced and angry, in front of the entrance to the tent and drops a bunch of magazines and one large bag in Bucky's lap.

Next, without any explanation, Steve turns around and starts kicking one of the chairs he and Bucky have only rarely used, except for hanging clothes. He kicks it so hard he breaks two of the chair legs. Then he pulls out of the inside of his black jacket a knife Bucky's never seen before, curved and smaller than his usual one, and he stabs the unmovable object over and over, punctuating each strike with a deafening scream.

Bucky's like paralyzed, watching his alpha destroy the piece of furniture.

He probably doesn't breathe until Steve's done, throws his knife against the wall and shouts one last time.

The omega is shaking, clutching the covers around himself because he's got no idea what else to do. His biggest fear is that Steve might turn all this violence towards him, next. So he keeps quiet and tries to pretend he doesn't exist, wishing Steve'll calm down before he's remembered Bucky's existence.

Except that Steve actually turns around and comes back to Bucky soon as he's done behaving like an enraged beast, and Bucky tries to keep his composure and not look as fearful as he feels in front of his emotionally unstable alpha. He doesn't expect Steve to crouch and push the bag and the magazines away, then to hug him and bury his face in the omega's lap.

He doesn't expect Steve's hulking frame to shake, wrecked with violent sobs that he's been maybe hiding for too long for it to be healthy.

Watching his alpha cry feels like a hand has reached inside his chest and is currently crushing his heart.

"Oh, Steve, what happened?"

Steve keeps sobbing wordlessly against the omega, and all Bucky can do is wait until he's cried his fill. He starts humming a lullaby he was taught in kindergarten, a very long time ago, and combs his fingers gently through Steve's soft blond hair.

* * *

 "Is there stuff about me?" He dares to ask when it feels like Steve's done breaking down.

"Yeah," Steve groans. "Your picture's everywhere. Your name, too. But most news reports think that I must have killed you by now."

Steve lifts his head and his eyes are puffy and still watery when he meets Bucky's gentle gaze. "Why haven't I killed you by now?" He asks, and he sounds so sincere, like he really doesn't know himself.

"Because... you fell in love with me?" Bucky ventures in a voice that's nearly a whisper. "If you kill me... I won't be able to stay with you."

Bucky knows he's taking big risks by talking about this, afraid he might be giving Steve ideas, but it's a risk he has to take. He _needs_ to know.

Steve simply frowns, looks down at Bucky's lap, then back up, visibly mulling that thought over. Eventually he hums at the back of his throat and goes back to clutching Bucky. All Bucky can do is hope that no answer is a good sign.

"Read the  _GossHip_." He orders just when Bucky thinks he's maybe fallen asleep, gesturing blindly at the pile of magazines.

Bucky takes said magazine, and quickly finds the article with the tackiest title.

                                                              

Bucky's amused at seeing his own face staring at him. But then he starts reading, and his outrage quickly morphs into just _rage_ by the time he's done.

What catches Bucky's attention in the article are mostly the words  _loser_ ,  _disfiguration_ and  _virgin_. Those _certainly_ aren't words he'd use to describe the alpha sprawled in his lap.

Steve is a beautiful man, for starters. His smile is like sunshine during a cold winter, and even when he's mad he's just so damn hot Bucky's body never knows if he's supposed to be scared, or aroused. He's usually always a mix of both when it comes to Steve. Bucky doesn't know much about Steve's childhood (well, not yet), but he's sure about one thing, and it's that looking the way he does right now, Steve could have all the friends in the world, and all the omegas he desires.

And Steve isn't a _loser_ ; the fact that he's rejected society's norms makes him all the more brave in Bucky's eyes. He's killed 23 couples, which means a total of 46 people, with his own bare hands - and Bucky knows from the source itself that there have been many more prior to those, when Steve had been "training" himself. Steve's been all over the world, and he used to kill without any true objective behind the act, doing it just for the thrill of it. And because he could. Steve's the most dangerous, most elusive serial killer in the history of the United Sates, and they've  _still no idea who he might be,_ or how and where to find him. He's like smoke, invisible and unstoppable.

And here comes this woman, claiming that she understands who _"the Sentinel of Love"_ truly is, why he kills and even  _what he looks like_.

This is plain ridiculous, and the magazine is obviously some tabloid full of worthless gossip. It's the kind of trash Bucky would never read, and the author of this article is only aiming for the sensational effect of such revelation, with no legit foundation to back it up.

And that  _"virgin"_ part. Seriously. Because Steve isn't into necrophilia, suddenly he's a virgin? Bucky feels like calling that journalist on the spot and giving her a detailed description of Steve's cock and the way it feels to have it buried deep inside his ass non-stop for a whole _week_. And maybe add that he's indeed the _"omega still missing"_ and also the _"omega having the time of his life"_ and the _"omega happily bonded to the most wonderful alpha"_.

When he shares his thoughts on the matter with Steve, shaking his fist in righteous fury and ordering Steve  _not_ to believe any of this shit, Steve pulls a box out of the bag he brought from town and it turns out that it's a bleaching kit when he thrusts it in Bucky's face for the omega to see.

Then he asks, "how do you feel about paying this miss Carter a visit, Buck?"

* * *

Sharon Carter lives in a penthouse in the center of NYC.

She's an obnoxious petite blonde who walks like she owns half the city and treats all her friends and colleagues, including her doorman, like shit. She's a fierce social climber and has been fighting all her life to get the competition inside her newspaper out of the picture and she's now hopefully waiting for the promotion of her life that'll put her at the top of the company.

Bucky knows because he and Steve are currently renting a room in a dingy hotel not far from the center of the city, and Steve's been studying the reporter for two weeks and a half. From what he tells Bucky when he comes back to their room late every night, soon as he'd learned her habits he's been meeting with her every morning at the coffee shop on the corner of the street where the headquarters of the  _GossHip_ are located, pretending he was working somewhere nearby in the neighborhood and flirting outrageously with the young reporter.

It's their plan; since Steve's not going to follow his usual method of targeting and eliminating mated couples, they've had to come up with another, sneakier approach. Steve wants to take his revenge on that reporter, and use that opportunity to teach the media a lesson. But he mostly wants to play that lying bitch, and hurt her in her pride the way she's hurt Steve and by proxy, Bucky too.

All Bucky can do while Steve spend all day monitoring Miss Carter and _pretending_ to be into her - is stay cooped up in their tiny hotel room, live off room service (that he pays for with the cash Steve's given him without any explanation whatsoever about its origin) and spend the rest of his time worrying over the plan and wishing he could be more useful to his alpha than a potted-plant. Or a lap-dog.

But in all honesty, it's not the general plan or even his own uselessness that irritates Bucky the most - it's this  _pretend_ -flirting business. And the  _pretend-_ asking her out on a date that's about to happen very soon. And although he  _knows_  that Miss Carter's days are counted, and that she sure _as hell_ won't enjoy _"getting to know the real Steve"_ , it still irritates the  _fuck_ out of him.

Steve is his bondmate. He's not supposed to be seducing cute little omegas when he's got Bucky waiting for him in their hotel room. Some part of Bucky knows he's being irrational, but Bucky's first and foremost an omega, always starving for any marks of affection and ownership, and when he spends  _days_ in a row getting updates on Steve's courtship, it's no surprise that he starts touching and exciting himself every night before Steve's return, drowning the room and their king-size bed in his fragrance of mated omega.

So when Steve comes back, he's only got time to take one step inside their room before he's hit by the smell of Bucky's arousal, and Bucky knows that his slick doesn't smell so sweet and tempting anymore but it seems like it makes no difference for his alpha who always proceeds to make passionate love to him.

* * *

 Bucky's started to think of their fucking as "making love" since the day they finally left the warehouse.

It was the same day that Steve sat Bucky on their one remaining chair outside the warehouse, and as it happened it had been the plastic one Steve had tied Bucky to after his kidnapping, and subsequently the one where they had first had sex and Steve had bonded with Bucky.

His alpha had sheathed his hands in latex and spent hours applying the stinking product from the bleaching kit onto Bucky's hair, and turning once dark brown hair into a light shade of ginger, and then reapplying it until the top of Bucky's head was a vibrant yellowish-white. Steve had left Bucky's roots brown, explaining that he didn't want Bucky to look "too much like a ghost".

They didn't have any mirrors at their old hideout, so Bucky only had Steve's word that he looked _"very good"_. That same day they'd taken a fast train to New York soon as Bucky's hair was done drying and Steve'd packed his meager belongings into a small backpack before shoving a cap on top of his head, hiding most of his face under the peak.

It was only after booking the hotel room (where Bucky had rediscovered the joys of the modern bathroom) that Bucky'd had a chance to look at himself properly.

At first, it'd been quite a shock. Bucky had whined long and deep inside his throat, disliking his new look on the spot and wishing he could just be himself again, the way he was before, all dark and pretty for his alpha. It had been too much too fast, and Bucky had needed something familiar to hold on to... not  _more_ changes.

Even the sight of his bonding mark wasn't enough to appease him. Bucky had merely glanced at his neck before grabbing handfuls of his bleached hair and tugging at them, not hard or with any purpose other than to make sure it was all real, and he wasn't just imagining this.

He had felt too  _alien_ to himself.

Steve must have heard him from the other room because the next thing Bucky knew the door of the bathroom was kicked open and he was cradled in Steve's strong arms. His alpha had hugged Bucky tight and even hummed Bucky's lullaby back to him in an attempt to quiet down the distressed omega. Steve's always been a quick learner.

 _"No,"_ Bucky had sobbed, meeting Steve's eyes in their shared reflection.  _"I can't... I can't stay like this."_

 _"Why?"_ Steve had asked, sounding genuinely curious.

 _"Because I'm not... It's not... It's not... pretty,"_ Bucky had whined, conscious of how childish he sounded but that was how he felt, and he didn't dare lying to Steve. It was too bright and too light and he simply didn't like it.

_"I like it."_

Steve had bit the shell of his ear, affectionately, and very effectively distracting the omega from his anguished thoughts. But Bucky'd still had trouble believing the alpha's statement.

 _"You really do?"_ He'd asked between two hiccups.

_"Uh-huh. Look, we're both blond, now."_

And Bucky had looked at the picture they made, a tall blond wrapped around a small man with messy bright yellow hair. They didn't have the same color at all, but they were indeed both blond. And he still hadn't liked what he saw, but if  _Steve_ liked him this way, Bucky thought he just might get used to it. And after all, Steve hadn't bleached the omega's hair for fun - Bucky's picture was everywhere, although the hype of the Matchwrecker's latest kill was quickly fading away after nearly a month of nothing new to report and no clues about Bucky's (supposedly dead body's) whereabouts. Someone might still recognize the missing omega, and from there - lead the police to Steve himself.

 _"Baby, I love you either_ way _," Steve had purred. "Y_ _ou know I do. Dark or light, it doesn't matter."_

Bucky had been ready to tell Steve that he was OK now, when the taller man had opened-up his heart to him in such an unexpected manner. And the choice of words had robbed Bucky of his very _air_ because right there, in those simple words, was everything he'd ever wanted to tell Steve. He'd never felt so close to Steve, and so  _understood_ by the alpha.

And to hear Steve confessing to loving him had felt like a dream come true. Magical.

 _"I-I love you too,"_ Buck had very elegantly stammered, glancing at his alpha over his shoulder and returning Steve's luminous smile.  _"Dark or light."_

 The kiss they'd shared afterwards had been the most gentle Steve's ever been with him, slow and sensual and  _loving._ _  
_

* * *

 The night of Steve and Sharon's date, Bucky's in a foul mood.

He's going to attend the event, too; only he and Steve won't arrive at the same time and he'll have to remain far enough that Miss Carter doesn't happen to glance his way and recognize the missing James Buchanan Barnes in the bleached little omega.

"I hate this," he says,  _loud_ , for at least the tenth time, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed while he watches Steve get dressed.

Steve looks hot in his charcoal gray sweater with a v-neck that's showing off more than a hint of his muscled chest, and his black pants that Bucky helped him pick yesterday during his first walk outside (it'd been a test, to see if Bucky really could walk around with no one noticing him and it'd worked out pretty well). Bucky can only blame himself for the sinful way the fabric is hugging his alpha's toned ass.

Now Steve's tying a black scarf around his exposed throat, and he glances at Bucky when the omega complains once again.

"It won't be long, now, baby. Just keep your eyes on me during dinner."

Bucky holds his chin stubbornly up, but he nods. Steve laughs and climbs onto the bed, tackling the smaller man and kissing his pouty lips until they're both laughing and breathless.

"Don't ruin it," Steve scolds the omega when Bucky tries to bring Steve closer and maybe keep him there forever. _"Trust me,_ it'll be fun," he assures him with one last kiss before climbing off the bed.

"I trust you."

* * *

Before going out, Steve had sprayed himself from head to toe with deodorant, covering all traces of Bucky. These tricks never last long, but if Sharon's as head over heels for Steve as he claims, she might not even notice or care. Omegas can be stupid like that, and Bucky knows a thing or two about it.

Bucky tries not to let the idea of Steve and Sharon enjoying a romantic  _tête-à-tête_ get to him while he gets ready to leave.

Instead he thinks of the way Steve cornered him so silently in the shower last night, giving him the fucking fright of his life. Remembers how easily Steve caught him when Bucky slipped and almost banged his head against the wall. How the alpha grabbed his hair and claimed his mouth under the stream of water, kissing him brutally, cutting Bucky's lower lip with his sharp teeth.

Bucky combs his bleached hair and slicks it up with a bit of gel as he thinks about the way Steve got on his knees and closed his kiss-swollen lips around the omega's straining little member. Steve had supported him with one hand on his hip (or else Bucky's knees would have given out and he'd have crumbled down onto his alpha), the other finding his opening and rubbing it over and over with two callused fingers, tracing the outer edge of his soaking wet rim and sliding lower still to massage his aching balls. Everything  _but_  giving Bucky what he wanted - Steve, inside him, any way he could have him. His fingers, his tongue, his cock,  _anything_. At that point, fingers buried in Steve's wet hair, Bucky had contemplated asking for Steve to shove his  _knife_  up his ass if he _had_ to.

Bucky's become hard in the brand new jeans he's wearing, and he stares at his reflection, noting the way his pupils have almost swallowed all the color in his eyes, and the way the blood is rushing to his face. He's sexually frustrated, and daydreaming about Steve  _not_ fucking him in the shower isn't helping at all.

It's Steve's rule, this... this punishment he's been putting Bucky through ever since Sharon agreed to go on a date with Steve. It's been three days, and every time Steve's come to torment him with fingers and mouth, he's forbidden Bucky of coming, promising Bucky that the kill will only be sweeter this way.

Bucky's only consolation is the fact that Steve's been denying himself, too. Bucky's seen how hard he'd get every time he'd go down on Bucky or when he rubbed himself against the omega's body right before bed (leading to nights spent trying to forget about all the ways they  _could be_ fucking if they wanted to) and he's never done anything about it, either.

Bucky doesn't understand, but once again he trusts Steve to know what he's doing, and if killing the journalist can only be done with blue balls, well, let him have them! He's only a bit displeased with the fact that  _he too_ has to suffer. But as the one half of a mated pair, Bucky can't deny Steve, and he's been good and hasn't touched himself even once the whole time.

He's very,  _very_ tempted now that he's alone again, but the memory of Steve's cold blue eyes, flashing with anger, is enough to remind him what a dangerous game he'd be playing if he starts disobeying his alpha.

With an aggravated sigh, Bucky leaves the bathroom, puts his denim jacket on and goes to the nightstand on Steve's side of the bed. He pulls one of the drawers and reveals the pouch Steve's shown him a week ago; the one where Steve keeps his collection of knives. He doesn't how where Steve got it from, and Steve's been pretty vague about it too, only hinting that he's got "people" in NYC who've been taking care of his stuff and namely, Steve's knives.

As Steve said when uncovering them for the first time, the collection is truly beautiful. There are all types of blades, and hilts, for what Bucky presumes is hunting. Steve's just using it to hunt something different than animals.

Steve's already got his favorite knife at his ankle, always, but he asked Bucky to arm himself before going out and joining them at the restaurant, so Bucky does as he's promised and picks one that looks almost like a dagger, with a thin but sharp blade and a nice, comfortable black handle.

Bucky feels his heart speed up when he tightens his hold on Steve's knife. He's going to watch Steve in his element, tonight. After this tame little honeymoon they've just spent together, he's missed Steve's darker side.  _Badly._ He's both scared and excited to watch Steve in action.

Whatever happens tonight, Bucky's more than ready to be there for his strong and beautiful alpha.

Sliding the knife inside his pocket, Bucky closes the drawer and makes sure to grab the key card to the room on his way out.

* * *

Two hours later, as Bucky crosses the small lobby of Sharon's building (and notices with a sigh of relief that Steve's indeed gotten rid of the doorman like he's promised) and gets into the elevator, he's got murder in his eyes.

Steve and Sharon had spent the night touching and flirting and laughing at each other's jokes, and not  _once_ had Steve looked in Bucky's direction. Inside the elevator, Bucky pulls out his knife and stares moodily at the blinking lights above the doors that indicate the floors. The elevator stops once it's reached the 8th floor, and the doors have barely slid open that Bucky's already jumping out and running across the hallway to the door leading to Sharon's penthouse.

He rings the bell, and waits.

When Steve opens the door maybe a minute later, Bucky brushes past him without even a hello or a single glance at the alpha. He stalks into the spacious living room where he finds the reporter bound to her armchair, a gag between her lips and tied behind her head.

Bucky's blood is boiling, even after seeing for himself that Steve and Sharon haven't been up to anything funny in his absence. He still sees the way Sharon had leaned over and caressed the back of Steve's hand with her fingers.

Sharon screams behind her gag, and Bucky suddenly realizes that he's standing right in front of her, and he's got his knife embedded into her right hand. There's a trickle of blood seeping from the wound and around the blade.

On a sudden whim, he pulls the knife out. Blood gushes out of the wound this time, and Sharon keeps screaming and trying to take her hand away from Bucky. But the omega is far from done, because as if it hadn't been enough that Bucky had to watch them be all lovey-dovey with each other, he also had to suffer through Sharon playing footsie with Steve, rubbing her ankle against the big alpha's, and then slowly going up and up and certainly finding the bulge she'd been expecting under her bare foot. Bucky couldn't actually see much because of the tablecloth, but he saw enough, and enough of their expressions, to know exactly what had been happening.

Steve didn't get a hard-on because of her vulgar attempts at seduction! It was  _Bucky_ who did that to Steve! It was  _Bucky_ who made Steve feel this way, and  _only_ him! Who did this bitch think she was, rubbing herself all over  _his alpha?!_

Before Steve can stop him, Bucky stabs Sharon's thigh, and as a _lot_ of bright red wells up around the blade, he decides to leave his knife in place, remembering that Steve doesn't want it to be a fast kill.

"Steve's _mine_ ," he growls menacingly into the woman's face.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and Bucky turns around ready to accept his punishment for encroaching upon Steve's moment.

"I-I-I'm sorry," he breathes hard, the realization of what he's just done hitting him like a freight train, "b-but-but I couldn't stand it! She was all over you and I just wanted to do this the whole time!"

Steve pushes him out of the way, but instead of directing his attention to his prey, he follows after Bucky, and they both end up falling onto Sharon's couch. Steve straddles him and licks a wet stripe over Bucky's mark, lavishing that place with attention and forcing a little moan out of the omega.

"I'm not mad," Steve kisses and nibbles Bucky's throat, and then sucks on the abused skin. "And I love that you did this. I love that you don't like seeing me flirt with another. I _love_ it."

His voice is so deep and warm, and Bucky holds onto his muscled shoulders and accepts all the touches and the words, soaking them up like a little sponge. 

"You didn't look at me even once," Bucky whimpers weakly into Steve's embrace.

He rolls his hips against the taller man, looking for some kind of friction. Steve grabs his hands and pins them against the back of the couch. Then he nuzzles Bucky's chest, teeth closing over a pert little nipple visible through the thin fabric of Bucky's shirt, and tugs.

"Alpha, I-"

_"Shut up."_

The command has Bucky biting down on his lip, desperately trying to swallow back his moans of protest.

"Bucky, I knew you were there the moment you entered the damn restaurant," Steve chides him tenderly.

Steve kisses the abused little nipple, then rubs his face all over Bucky's chest, like a giant cat marking its territory. His scruff is both the worst and best thing, lighting up Bucky's sensitive nerve endings. When Steve's mouth and teeth find the omega's other nipple next, he's even more brutal this time, biting and chewing until he's soaked Bucky's shirt with saliva.

Bucky closes his eyes and  _fights_ to stifle his cries. He pushes a bit against Steve's hold and sighs happily when Steve's fingers dig into his wrists and slam him against the couch.

"I never looked at you but I knew you were there, watching us. Watching me."

 _"Yes!"_ Bucky cries out, forgetting himself.

Steve shuts him up with a forceful kiss and a fist closing in Bucky's bleached blond hair.

"Get ready for me," Steve barks once he releases Bucky's red mouth. "When I'm done with her I'm coming back for you and this time, I'm  _not_ stopping."

Bucky lets out a pitiful little mewl when Steve lets go of Bucky's hands and takes all the warmth with him.

Steve goes back to Sharon without a look back, and Bucky quickly follows his alpha's orders, popping the button of his jeans open and tugging the zipper down with trembling fingers. He peels himself out of his pants and underwear, and leaves them in a little heap on the floor. He's hard and leaking from everywhere, and he's got two fingers up his slick asshole and a hand on his cock in no time.

And he's ready to shoot so fast that he has to squeeze at the base of his little member _hard_  to stop his orgasm. It hurts and it shakes Bucky to his core to deny himself after  _so_ , so long, but he needs to be good for Steve. Steve who he can see from here how he's tenting his pants, getting off on both omegas. The one he's about to humiliate and get his revenge on, and the other that he's planning on taking hard against every flat surface in this penthouse once he's done.

He owns them, both of them, Bucky suddenly understands, and... and it's right. Steve's more than capable of handling them both, he's  _actively doing it right now_ , and he looks like he's been  _born_ to do this. To decide who gets to live and who gets to die. A cruel, inflexible but fair tyrant.

Maybe it's the fact that he's so fucking horny that everything, _even death_ , is so exciting, or maybe it's that Bucky's just as sick deep down as his mate. The reason doesn't matter, Bucky only wants all of this to be done so he can finally climb his alpha and ride him to sweet completion.  


While Bucky pants and starts fucking his fist again, long and slow to control the intensity of his pleasure, getting off on the absolute control his alpha holds over both omegas, Steve drags a chair across the living room that he puts in front of the whimpering reporter. He turns it backwards and straddles it with a display of sensuality that Bucky wonders if it isn't _just_ for him.

Bucky belatedly notices all the cans and bottles of detergent and other cleaning products surrounding the armchair, and wonders if Steve's planning on poisoning the reporter... or setting her on fire. He doesn't care, as long as she pays for hurting Steve so badly, and humiliating him in such a dishonorable way.

"Do you know who I am?" Steve growls, and Bucky's hairs all stand on end, fingers tightening involuntarily around his erection.

The reporter shakes her head no, and throws Bucky a quick, fearful glance. Like  _he's_ the one she's fearing the most. Bucky's on the verge of bursting out laughing at her foolish mistake. Instead he smirks and throws his head back against the couch, focusing on Steve's voice and his own pleasure building up inside him.

There's a rustle of paper, and Bucky glances briefly down, recognizing the article from  _GossHip_ in Steve's hands.

"According to you," Steve enunciates very slowly, like he's talking to a child, "I'm a  _'demented individual'_ , a  _'loser at life'_ , a  _'monster'_ , oh, and my favorite part, I'm also ugly as all fucks."

Steve laughs, but it's devoid of any humor. It's hollow, and sounds like a death sentence. Sharon must feel it too, because she's looking at Steve with round, owlish eyes.

"Do you think I'm ugly, Sharon?" Steve asks gleefully. "Am I disfigured? Is this why I kill people, because I'm _ug-ly?"_ He whines in a falsely sad tone. "And to think that only moments ago, you wanted me so bad inside your little _pussy_ , didn't you?"

Bucky growls from the other side of the room, and Steve turns to him with his index finger on his lips. Bucky grits his teeth and snarls, absolutely disliking the idea of Steve and Sharon together and not about to be silent about it, and he's pleased with the way Steve's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his rebellion. He can only hope he won't get punished for that, later.

"Baby, it's alright. It's you I'm gonna fuck tonight."

Bucky nods, and keeps playing with himself dutifully, the sight of Steve overpowering Sharon and  _humiliating her_ making him so fucking hot he needs to squeeze his cock with  _both hands_ this time to prevent his orgasm. His muscles seize up everywhere from the amount of pent-up sexual tension he's fighting himself to contain, built up over the past few days, and he bends forward, breathing hard and fast, skin glistening with sweat and precome.  _Fuck_ , but Steve needs to end this bitch faster or Bucky won't survive this, either.

Steve stands up and stalks around his victim like a predator, and Bucky just can't tear his eyes away from him. Powerful and dangerous. He's like one of those supermassive black holes, sucking up all light in the room, attracting every body that's fallen in his orbit like a magnet. Bucky can't tell up from down anymore, right from wrong and black from white. His skin is tingling deliciously all over, his senses are heightened and he's feeling this big bubble of euphoria floating somewhere between his stomach and chest, continuously expanding, and all he can think about is  _alpha, alpha, soon, alpha, in me, kill her, fill me, take me, alpha._

"Now tell me how  _lonely_ I am," Steve's back at taunting the other omega, pointing at Bucky for Sharon to see how completely lost Bucky has become, a slave to every of Steve's desires. "Tell me how _'shy'_ I am  _'about the sexual act',_ " he keeps quoting back to her, and Bucky wonders if Sharon's eyes will just keep on becoming bigger and rounder until they pop out of their sockets.

"I'm going to take off your gag, now. If you scream, I'll cut your fucking throat open."

Steve unties the thick piece of fabric, and peels the scotch tape around Sharon's mouth keeping the fabric in place, dropping both on the floor.

 _"The Matchwrecker,"_ she mumbles first, head hanging low, blood still gushing out of the place Bucky's knife's still embedded in her thigh, and from her perforated hand.

"Mm-hmm," Steve agrees, still turning around the armchair where she's bound and keeping a watchful eye on her.

Bucky's just now noticed that Steve's got his knife back in hand, ready to keep good on his promise if the reporter tries calling for help. Although she doesn't look like she's capable of anything from the amount of pain and the shock she's going through.

"And... and... Barnes?"

Bucky looks at Steve for permission and once he gets it he snarls in Sharon's direction, feeling dizzy but also strangely _present_ , and nods.

"You've... you've  _corrupted_ him, you monster! Disgusting _beast_ -" Steve slaps her hard with the back of his hand, cutting off her venom.

"Have I corrupted you, baby?"

Bucky can't form any coherent word, so he just arches his back and grinds his body against the back of the couch, lust-filled eyes never leaving Steve.

Steve walks back to where Bucky's sitting and pulls him up by his bleached hair. The omega goes willingly and lets Steve claim his mouth with a strangled moan. Steve's hands reach between them and he opens his own pants, sliding them down his thighs, and Bucky immediately tugs at his boxers too and forces them down Steve's muscled legs next, exposing his alpha's flushed cock.

"Watch and learn," Steve throws at Sharon condescendingly.

Once he's naked from the waist down, Steve grabs the back of Bucky's head and forces him down. It's the hand with the knife, and Bucky immediately falls on his knees on the hard floor.

"Open."

Sharon's quickly losing blood and vitality, and Bucky only spares her one single, disdainful look before dismissing her completely in favor of Steve's hard cock poking his cheek and smearing it with precome. Bucky licks under the head lovingly, wraps his fingers around the base and keeps licking open and wet all over his alpha's member, then opens his mouth wide and sucks Steve all the way down his throat.

Steve's using him as a statement, needing to prove that he's indeed not alone in this, that whatever Sharon links to being happy and fulfilled - Steve has it, and it's a  _thousand_   _times better._

Bucky doesn't mind at all.

In fact, he's so hard he can't help whimpering around Steve, and his alpha's fingers are back in his hair, directing his movements as he fucks into his hot mouth. Steve's rhythmical grunts sound like little explosions of air above Bucky's head, like they're escaping Steve's mouth despite him. Bucky's hands keep moving, touching, exploring - on his alpha's hips, up the back of his thighs, gripping his ass and forcing him deeper inside Bucky's welcoming mouth.

"He'll... kill you, too... you _fucking_ idiot..."

Sharon's voice is nothing more than a whisper, the once pretty and lively omega on the verge of losing consciousness from the blood loss. 

Bucky freezes, Steve's precome sliding bittersweet and hot down his throat. Steve's big hand is immediately at his cheek, patting him and stroking him with a callused thumb and the rough handle of his knife, wanting to provide comfort, but Bucky doesn't need it. He hollows his cheeks and sucks gently at Steve's member as he lets it slip gradually out of his mouth. 

 _"Bucky,"_ Steve growls, but Bucky ignores him and turns to look at the bleeding woman.

He knows the risks of being with Steve. He knows that his alpha's mind is a well of darkness, and his only source of light is Bucky. He's conscious of the fact that any moment, Steve can turn on him; turn that blade on him and plunge it deep into Bucky's chest. But he also knows that Steve loves him,  _truly_ does, as much as his fucked up heart allows him to - and _that's_ what makes this all... worth it.

Bucky doesn't have to look at his mate to know that he's waiting to see what Bucky will do. So the omega stands up, takes the ten steps separating them from the bound woman in the armchair, and crouches in front of her.

He closes his fingers around the handle of his knife jutting out of her bloodied thigh.

He knows the right words to say, and he says them loud enough for Steve to hear them.

"I know," Bucky offers with a little smile, tightening his hold on the handle and meeting Sharon's dull eyes, and she's still alive enough to glare at him. "And I'd let him."

Behind his back, Steve's moan is cut off soon as it escapes him, but they've all heard it and Bucky feels liquid warmth spreading from his chest down to the rest of his body. But it's not only for Steve's pleasure that he's saying this. To offer his life like this to someone as dangerous as Steve is the ultimate show of trust for Bucky, and he wants Steve to know; to hear it from his own mouth that yes,  _yes,_ Bucky's all his, all that he is and all that he has, even his life - they all belong to Steve.

"Everything for my alpha," Bucky swears, and pulls his knife out.

He doesn't wait to watch her die as the blood oozes now freely out of her wound, soaking everything and pooling rapidly at the foot of the armchair; doesn't even care when blood splatters his right hand and some lands on his face and in his blond hair.

He calmly stands up and returns to his mate who hasn't moved at all, standing half naked with his gorgeous cock hanging hard and heavy between his thick legs, wide chest expanding and contracting slowly, strong arms wrapping around Bucky the moment the omega's close enough. He's every bit the alpha of Bucky's dreams, and Bucky exhales deeply against Steve's chest and tilts his head up for a kiss.

Steve cradles his face and attacks his mouth like they haven't kissed in ages. 

"I haven't corrupted you," Steve mutters darkly into Bucky's mouth, and kisses him again. "You're not corrupted, you're _beautiful._ "

Bucky moans and jerks against his alpha's body when blunt nails dig hard into his ass cheeks. Dropping his bloodied knife at their feet, he throws his arms around Steve's neck when he guesses what's about to happen, and lets himself be lifted off the ground and carried to the couch. It's not very far, but the couple of steps Steve takes are enough for Bucky's hard cock to jump up and down a few times, brushing  _deliciously_ against Steve's abs. Bucky bites down on Steve's shoulder and _desperately_ holds in the orgasm that's been threatening for _days_ to burst out of him.

He's not going to be able to hold it in for much longer.

Steve drops the omega on the couch, and slaps his thigh to indicate him he wants him on his stomach. Bucky lazily rolls over and leans forward against the back of the couch, bracing himself and thrusting his round little ass up in the air.

"Always my beautiful mate" Steve purrs, and Bucky buries his face in the crook of his elbow and exhales shakily, heart swelling with everything he's feeling for his alpha.

Steve climbs behind him and encompasses Bucky's smaller body into his own, bigger frame. One big hand lands heavily over Bucky's crossed arms, keeping them in place on top of the couch.

"You're so good to me. Always ready to take my cock," he teases, rubbing his large member slow and sensual between Bucky's ass cheeks, and Bucky moans a tiny _"yes."_

"And," Steve adds, voice dropping an octave, "my knife."

Bucky startles and cries out when he feels something blunt and square at his entrance. He's not in heat anymore so there's no chance of him dripping everywhere, but he's still all slick inside and around his entrance, well-lubricated and ready for an alpha's cock.

But this isn't Steve, it's warm but much more  _solid,_  and feels completely different.

"Oh, it's...  _fu-uck!"_

Steve pushes the handle of his knife inside Bucky to the hilt, and Bucky's muscles are spasming all around the foreign object. This is Steve's favorite knife. Steve's killed people with this weapon, and now he's using it to give Bucky pleasure. It's truly messed up and Bucky bites the back of the couch and remains completely still, both impossibly turned on and  _scared shitless_ of moving.

Steve's warm hand is suddenly in Bucky's hair, then sliding down to the taut line of his back, stroking and kneading and massaging Bucky's muscles into relaxation.

Bucky melts a little under Steve's ministrations, and Steve takes hold again of the blade and starts fucking Bucky open with the handle.

"Alpha, Steve!" Bucky cries, clenching and relaxing repeatedly around the rough weapon, hungry hole sucking it in but never getting it deeper enough where Bucky's  _aching_ to be filled.

"Yes." Steve growls somewhere behind him, warm breath cooling Bucky's sweat-dampened back. "Come for your alpha."

Bucky wants to tell him that he can't, the knife's not enough, he needs more stimulation on his cock and deeper inside his channel where the knife can't reach, but he's barely opened his mouth before Steve's teeth are sinking into his neck, right over the mark and he does it hard and draws blood just like their first time. _  
_

And Bucky goes off like a firecracker from that bite alone, blowing his load against the back of the couch with a high-pitched scream. It's been  _so long_ since the omega's been granted any kind of release that he's pretty sure he passes out for a brief moment from the intensity of his orgasm. Steve's kissing his neck and muttering nonsensical praise into his skin, grounding him and bringing him back to earth while Bucky just keeps shaking and shooting ropes after ropes of white.

After he's finally done coming, legs shaking and ready to sleep for days in a row, Steve slowly pulls his knife out of Bucky's gaping hole and replaces it with his large cock. The first time he thrusts into Bucky, he pushes the limp little omega into the wet surface of the couch and he does it again and again until he's slid underneath him, and they end up with Bucky on top, straddling Steve's thighs.

Bucky's missed his alpha's cock so much that he can't stop telling Steve over and over again between little moans and gasps, letting Steve hold his hips in place and fuck into him at an increasingly faster pace.

 _"Bucky!"_ Steve shouts the omega's name for the very first time during sex like a statement, a confession, a vow - and shoots deep and long inside his mate.

Steve's climax is just as extended as Bucky's was, both men having teased and repressed each other for far too long. Bucky bears Steve's weight against his back and waits patiently for his alpha to come down from his high. When Steve's finally stopped shuddering and he starts mouthing lazily at his bonding mark, Bucky cranes his neck and meets Steve's mouth halfway for a kiss. Inside Steve's arms, warm and sated, Bucky feels absolutely, _irrevocably_ in love.

If he dies today, he'd die happy.

* * *

The penthouse is going up in flames when two speeding firetrucks finally reach the building.

After a painstakingly slow investigation, it appears that although Miss Carter's murder doesn't follow the usual _m.o._ , she's been murdered by a possible copycat of the  _Matchwrecker_ , as deadly and as efficient at covering his tracks as his "mentor".

As expected, the news plunges the whole country into profound distress, and consternation.

 _They are two, now_ , everybody's thinking, hearts filled with unspeakable terror. _  
_

And they couldn't be more right.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin... ?
> 
> (THANKS FOR READING & COMMENTING, AND SORRY FOR SCARRING YOU FOR LIFE <3)


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